


Wherever You Are, I'll Find You

by SerenityStargazer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Borrowing Michael's Lockdown Look, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley to the Rescue!, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, October, Sad Angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityStargazer/pseuds/SerenityStargazer
Summary: Day 3: Capture/RescueCrowley is awakened from his lockdown nap by the strong feeling that Aziraphale is in distress and needs rescuing. Feelings are confessed and kisses ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 112
Collections: Ineffable Kinktober 2020





	Wherever You Are, I'll Find You

Crowley startled awake, his heart pounding and Aziraphale's cries echoing in his mind. He could feel the angel's distress, though not the cause of it. With a snap, he was fully dressed in his usual black. Without a glance, he grabbed his mobile and jammed it into his jacket pocket. 

The Bentley raced through the London streets, screeching to a stop in front of the bookshop. The door to the shop flew open before he could snap, as if it was urging him to hurry to his angel's aid. He could hear sobbing in the backroom and headed there quietly but quickly; fearful of what he might find, but ready to do battle with whomever was making his beloved angel cry.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the room in which he had whiled away so many happy, drunken hours with Aziraphale. The angel sat alone on the sofa, wine bottles littering the rug around his feet. Instead of his usual prim and proper attire, he was clad in a grey v-neck t-shirt and black trackies. He had pink bunny slippers on his feet! Long blond curls tumbled down around his shoulder and a full beard curled along his jaw and under his nose, almost obscuring the trembling rose lips. Tears streamed from his eyes as his shoulders shook with sobs that racked his whole body.

Looking around, Crowley could see nothing that would bring the sturdy, stalwart angel to a blubbering, sodden mess. "Aziraphale?" he asked, shaken, but determined to defend his beloved against whatever had brought him to this.

The sobs stopped. Aziraphale looked up through his tears, peering frantically around. "Crowley? Is that you, dearest?"

Crowley said nothing, stunned by being called "dearest" and the desperate hope in the raspy voice.

Aziraphale's hands wandered to his hair, tugging at his curls as he hung his head again. "Of course not, you old fool. This is what you get for turning him away. Could have spent months together. Got up to speed. Told him you loved him. Kissed him. Made him yours. Instead, you rejected him for no reason at all and who knows how long he'll sleep? How long you'll be utterly and completely alone?"

Fuck! This was because of him?!! He pulled out his mobile to assess the damage he'd done. Shit. It was October. Months after he told Aziraphale he would be awake. And the voice mailbox was full. All from Aziraphale. He tucked the phone away and started slowly towards the couch.

He sat on the end of the sofa and placed a gentle hand on a shaking shoulder. "Aziraphale. It's me. It's Crowley. What are you going on about, silly ol' bear?"

Hesitantly, the angel raised his shaggy head to look at him. He blinked a time or two, rubbing away his tears with his palms. "Crowley?" he asked in wonder, reaching out a trembling hand to touch his cheek. Crowley covered his hand with his own, his long fingers compensating for Aziraphale’s broad ones.

"'Course it's me, Aziraphale. Wherever you are, I'll come to you. Remember?" And he brushed his lips in a whisper of promise across the furrowed angelic brow.

Realization that the lanky redhead was really there finally sinking in, Aziraphale smiled like the first dawn, flooding the world in light. "Crowley!" he said in excitement and threw himself into the demon's spindly arms, crushing himself tightly to his chest. "You're here! I called and called, but you didn't pick up and I was so scared it would be like before and you would sleep for decades. And...and...we already lost so many, many years!"

He pulled back enough to look into Crowley’s face and lifted his hands to the arms of his sunglasses. "May I?" he asked softly. Crowley nodded, barely daring to breath. Six thousand years of wanting and longing and loving. Was it finally time?

Aziraphale removed the dark glasses, folding them and putting them carefully on the end table. He took both of Crowley’s hands and looked him in the eye. The angel's ever-changing eyes were deep grey; red-rimmed with tears sticking in his long golden lashes.

"Oh, my dearest, your eyes are so lovely! It's so good to see them again," Aziraphale said with a small uncertain smile. "Once again, thank you for coming to the rescue. I seem to make a bit of a habit of it...getting myself in a pickle and needing you to fly to my aid."

"Shuddap," Crowley said, his voice raspy with the unspoken emotion threatening to spill over. "Seems like I caused this problem. Sorry, Angel. Didn't mean to sleep so long or worry you so." And he hung his head, hoping for forgiveness he didn't deserve.

He was surprised to hear Aziraphale laugh. It started as a giggle, but by the time he looked up, the angel's head was thrown back and chortling in glee.

"What's so funny?" he asked grumpily. He was pretty sure he hadn't said anything to provoke the peals of laughter. On the other hand, Aziraphale was still holding his hands and the warmth made it hard to be too irritated. Not that the angel needed to know that.

"Us. We are," the angel said through his giggles. "We're both so eager to take the blame. Hide how we feel or shuffle it aside. But we don't need to do that anymore. We're finally free, but we need to change a few things to enjoy it, I think. I started this particular mess by refusing to let you 'slither over, so let me begin."

Serious now, he gazed into Crowley’s eyes with an intensity that made him feel squirmy and too hot for his skin. "Anthony J Crowley, I love you. Have for ages. You are handsome and kind, witty and curious, and simply the most delightful being I've ever met."

Crowley felt his ears and cheeks grow red and his traitorous eyes grow wet. He opened his mouth to make a wiseass remark to diffuse the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, but the angel placed a finger over his lips and all he could do was listen, his heart caught in his throat.

"I know I said hard, painful untrue things about you and about us in the past. I felt they were needful to protect you at the time, but now I truly regret every time I made you feel less...beneath me...not enough. I hope you will forgive me. I would like to spend the next six thousand years showing you all the ways you delight me. To thank you for being my friend."

"Stay with me, Crowley? Please? If you need time to think about it, I understand. But, for today at least, would you stay here?"

"Ridiculous Angel," Crowley growled, quickly straddling his lap and burying his hands in those long pale curls. "I've loved you since the Wall. Giving your sword to the humans and lying to the Almighty straight to her face about it? How could any demon resist you?"

"I - I didn't so much lie as...not get around to telling the whole story. She was busy! Had a lot going on!" Aziraphale slowly sputtered to a stop as Crowley gave a light tug on his hair and his face came closer and closer.

"Shut up and kiss me, Angel," he murmured, closing that last bit of distance between them, his lips soft and hungry, gasping at the thrill when they joined. Some things are better shown than spoken, and the wordless conversation went on and on, neither willing to end it. When their bodies, used to breathing on a regular basis, demanded they stop for oxygen, they clung panting against each other, Aziraphale lips sowing sweet kisses along Crowley’s neck as the demon stroked his silky hair.

"You know, sweetheart, this is a good look for you," Crowley said, trying not to giggle as Aziraphale’s beard tickled along his clavicle.

"Say it again," Aziraphale whispered.

"I think your long hair and beard are really hot," Crowley clarified.

"Not that, though I'll happily keep it this way for you. You called me 'sweetheart'. Again, please!"

"Sweetheart. Darling. Mine!" Crowley gasped as kisses turned to nips and hands moved down from his waist to firmly grasp his arse and squeeze. Things had been pretty terrible when he had gone to sleep four months ago, but, damn!, October was already looking up!


End file.
